Looking around I can’t help but realize that we live in an unusual social epoch where playing video games, reading comics, and keeping one’s virginity intact are considered noteworthy character traits. Alright, maybe not the virginity thing, but being a nerd has never been better. Carrying around enough movie knowledge to fill several grain silos is like toting around an enormous golden calf above your head; something worthy of worship by all the other acne scarred mountain dew drinking fuck-heads who are willing to throw away whatever pagan beliefs they hold for the promise of more Pop-tarts and Pokemans.
Sadly, I can’t harp on these nerds too much for I myself am one of them. Having a rather robust comic, video game, and movie collection has netted me a seat of power as one of the “populars”. Ha! No more standing in the corner of social gatherings talking to my imaginary unicorn, Herbert, about my video game achievements. Now people can talk to me online via message boards and buy into all my lies! Life is grand.
The only thing I don’t really care for with this whole popularity thing is the upkeep. In order to maintain moxy it seems like we are all being measured against some constantly changing standards of excellence that none of us can see or predict. One minute you’re on top of the world with your Spider-man comics only to discover that some ass biting twit has discovered that Geoff johns Green Lantern is the new golden elixir that will cure aids and turn Bill O’Reilly’s words into a magical bucket of rainbows sweetly pouring into your ears. The constant flux of pressure being applied to my wallet would be nearly enough to lay me low if it weren’t for the no girl thing and therefore having the disposable income to continue my trek towards being the supreme nerd ruler of all time.
One of my first pressured upgrades I experienced occurred several years ago. While still in college I began to realize that I was getting rather good at multi-tasking. While playing WoW (and for the uneducated sots who know nothing of the joys of pwning newbs and grinding monotonous quests all day long, that’s World of Warcraft) I had this strange feeling like I could be doing more with my life; no, not studying, have you even been paying attention? I mean I could be playing a game and looking at LOL cats pictures simultaneously. I tried, but it was dreadful to say the least. Playing a game on half a tube monitor squinting my eyes to make out some sort of cheeseburger joke was wearing me thin. So it was decided by the council of elders to upgrade to a dual monitor setup.
$250 later I was the fat American social outcast owner of a flat panel monitor to compliment both my crummy tube monitor and my gargantuan nerd tallywacker (yes, we nerds have been known to possess such things). All seemed well, but like your first experience with petting a badger, the soft and cuddly sensation quickly turns to violent agony as you awaken to find yourself in a world of sharp savage scrotum torn pain. For whatever reason which will remain a COMPLETE mystery to me, my eyes felt rather strained *sarcasm*. After visiting an eye glass store and getting absolutely zero help from the hot secretary/librarian woman at the counter whom I suspect was too busy sorting out her Dewey decimals, I decided to simply shrug it off and take it like the man I was. The gamble paid off. The massive amounts of testosterone pumping through my veins was enough to send that pussy red eye business packing and all was well in my nerdy world.
Until recently….
Seeing as how it is 2010 I up and decided that it would be an embarrassment to my nerd status to have a monitor the size of an air conditioning unit. So the garish box left like so many hookers with a visit to the local dump to dispose of any evidence they had existed in my home. To take its place was an awe inspiring 24” widescreen, flat panel, HD, progressive scan, DVI input, reach around model. With this baby I was able to finally play my Xbox console in the HD format it was meant for. No longer would women point and laugh at how small my text was. Now I had godly text, text the size of Gregg Valentino’s arm, displayed on pixels as small as Gregg Valentino’s steroid shriveled wang. All seemed well until my eyes turned about as red as a cooked lobster walking in on his office workers pulling a train on his wife (ok, I’ll admit, that one was forced). Since this had happened before I didn’t bother concerning myself with it, but a month had passed and things were progressing as well as they would be for a 120 year old Hitler strapped to a chair in the middle of a holocaust survival group while he gives a speech about his new line of stove top ovens.
Now I know what you’re thinking, “Cactus, how do you open a stubborn jar of sauerkraut?” Well, I’m sorry, but I’m in the middle of a rant right now and I can’t help you. To which you reply, “Oh, well I have a second question. Why didn’t you just cut back on your computer/gaming usage?” Good question, a question that had run across my mind several times but I was desperately trying to see Tali Zorah naked at the time and I wasn’t going to give up without the ol’ college try (btw, FUCK YOU Bioware).
Two months passed and things were getting worse. I was beginning to feel concerned for my well being; after all, if this red eye business kept up I may never have been able to read another comic book or play another game ever again. Something had to be done. So like most of the worlds’ problem this particular dilemma was solved rather easily with some effort and ingenuity, meaning my mom forced me to see a doctor. The doctor prescribed some topical ointment to my eyes which was a thick gelatinous substance which blinded me for a good 30 minutes, and by Odin’s eye patch I was healed and my parent’s home was freed from the scourge of several low lying vases and lamps.
I walk away from this experience healed and knowing two things: always take things in moderation and remember to carry a walking stick around if you happen to be an Asian prostitute after a night of bukakke.
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